


something more original

by Kindasortaemo (orphan_account)



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 18:07:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20119354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Kindasortaemo
Summary: a multiship one shot book.Frerard, Petekey, Ryden, Bryllon, Joshlermostly fluff and angst, no smut. any triggers will be put in the beginning of the one shots.





	1. Sickly sweet holidays ~ Ryden

**Author's Note:**

> this used to be on wattpad. i don't want it anymore. i wrote this at 14, so some of it (especially the first one) might not be that good, but it gets better later on. do whatever you want with this (take inspiration, write fics of it, translate it, just don't repost it.)

Originally posted on december 23 2018

Song(s): sickly sweet holidays, dallon weekes

~~~

I slowly open my eyes and blink a few times, trying to adjust my eyes to the brightness of the room.

I look out of the window. It's snowing. I look down at Ryan's sleeping form, half of his body is draped on me, his head in the crook of my neck, and his leg between mine.

His hair is tangled in a nest like shape and his breathing is slow and regular, his cheeks tinted of a soft blush pink.

God, he's so beautiful.

I gently brush my hands up his side to run it through his hair. He loves it when I wake him up like this. If he decides to, that is.

He lets out a small whine and his eyes flutter open.

"Good morning babe" I say, still stroking his hair.

"Mmh, good morning" he moans (not in that way you fuckers) voice thick with sleep.

He shifts, and rolls off of me. "Spoon me" he demands, and I roll over too, hugging him from behind.

I start to plant small kisses on the nape of his neck, making him giggle. "Stop it, that tickles!" he says, as he tries to squirm away.

I stop, and laugh against his skin. He calms down, and I nuzzle my nose in his hair, inhaling his scent. He loves it when I do that. I slip my hand up his shirt, resting it on the warm, soft skin of his belly, rubbing it in small, slow circles. He sighs contently, and relaxes even more in my arms.

"You know that we have to put on the decorations, right? Tomorrow's Christmas" he reminds me, a veil of excitement coating his words.

"I know baby, I know, don't worry" I reply, equally as excited. "Oh, Frank and Gerard are going to drop by with the gifts from them and Mikey" I add

Frank and Gerard are our friends that live across the hall from us. They are the only friends we have that live this close to us, all the others are back in Nevada where we grew up. It hasn't always been this good for us. Four years ago, when we were 18, our parents had kicked us out when we came out. And we somehow ended up in New Jersey, traveling from a shelter to the other, trying to move as far away as possible from our parents.

I remember how devastated we both were. We were just 18, with around a thousand dollars in our savings accounts combined, and nowhere to go. We stayed for a bit at our friend Spencer's house, but we had to get out of there.

I don't want to think about it, today is all about being happy (i can't not add angst sorry lol)

Ryan senses my discomfort, and turns around to face me "what's wrong Bren?" he asks, clearly curious

"It's nothing baby, don't worry." I assure him, and he kisses my forehead

"Okay" he says, but I can tell that he's not convinced.

I peck him on the lips and he smiles a little. I'll tell him later, I know how hard it has been on him and I don't want to make him sad.

"I'm fine baby, don't worry about me." I reassure him again.

"Now, how about we eat breakfast and then start decorating?" I suggest, changing subject.

"Yeah. But can we cuddle a bit more? I don't want to get out of bed yet." He asks, making puppy eyes at me.

I nod, and he smiles wider, pulling me in for a quick kiss.

He closes his eyes, and slides down, so he can rest his head on my chest, like he often does when we're cuddling. When I asked him about it a couple of years ago he just replied with 'I do it because I want to feel your heartbeat against my skin. To know that you're real and that you aren't just a dream'. I cried that day.

I slip my hand up his shirt again, this time rubbing his back soothingly, his overheated skin soft to the touch. He sighs with pleasure, and I smile.

We're okay now.

~~~

I look over at Ryan, he's trying to untangle the fairy lights as I set up the tree.

"Ow, fuck" he curses. He had accidentally hit himself in the balls with the small control pad attached to the colorful lights.

I laugh, and go over to him to grab the lights, I don't want anymore accidents to happen to his balls.

"Are you okay Ry?" I ask, still laughing, as I grab the untangled lights out of his hands.

"Yeah, I'm fine" he groans, clearly in pain, as he sits on the couch.

I start to wrap the lights onto the small tree, and I hear Ryan laughing "I'm an idiot, aren't I?" He rhetorically asks

"Yeah, you are. But you're my idiot." I reply, and turn around to peck him on the forehead

"I'm going to finish decorating the tree, then you can put the star on top, okay?" I say, knowing that now he's going to bitch about his balls for the next hour. But I don't mind, I like hearing him ramble, especially about his balls.

"Okay. I'm just going to stay here and stare at your ass" he replies, laughing.

I go back to putting up the lights, swinging my hips a little more than necessary, to give him a little show. I reach the end, and I carefully hide the small control pad in a branch in the back of the tree, careful not to hit myself like Ryan has just done.

In a matter of minutes, I finish decorating, all that is left is the star on top. It's always been Ryan putting it up there.

I wordlessly turn around, and he catches the hint. He wraps one arm around my waist and takes the plastic star from my hands, and gently puts it on top.

I look over at him, and he's too engrossed into staring at the tree to notice. I look at his chocolate eyes, long, jet black lashes curling gracefully around them, the rainbow lights colorfully illuminating his pale face.

I love this boy. I love this boy, that's all I can think about right now. I loved him four years ago when we didn't have anything and I love him now, even more than before. I love how just his touch can soothe me, taking all of my pain and restlessness away. I love how the first time we met, I just knew he was going to be mine, no matter what. I'll love him no matter what.

"It's beautiful, Bren" he says. I thank him, and he's still looking at the tree. I know he's absorbed in his thoughts, so I don't say anything else, not to disturb him.

~~~

I'm laying on the couch, my head in Ryan's lap, as we watch some random christmas movies.

He's playing with my hair, his hands as soft as a feather, not to hurt me.

Suddenly, someone rings our doorbell, and before I can say anything Ryan has already grabbed his wallet to pay for the pizza we ordered.

"Merry Christmas motherfuckers!" Someone yells. That's definitely not the delivery guy.

"Dude, today's christmas eve" someone else says

"Fuck off Mikey" the first guy replies, annoyed by the statement

I sit up on the couch, and run my hand through my hair to make myself a bit more presentable, and Ryan walks back in the room with Gerard, Frank and Mikey, Gerard's little brother behind him.

"Sorry, we know it's a bit late to drop by" Gerard apologizes

"No, don't worry, we were just watching a movie anyways" I reply calmly.

"Where can I put these?" Mikey asks, and I notice the big, black paper bag he's holding, a little piece of holographic (simplynailogical is that you?) wrapping paper poking out of the top.

Wordlessly, Ryan walks up to him and grabs the bag, putting it under the tree, and grabs the equally big paper bag with the gifts for them from under the tree, handing it to Frank, who gladly takes it.

"Thank you for the gifts guys" Ryan and I both say, in unison, before looking at each other and giggling.

"Well, we gotta go. We have to wake up early tomorrow, we just wanted to drop the gifts by" Gerard pipes up, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend's waist.

There's a knock at the door and Ryan walks the guys to the door, taking his wallet to pay the person on the other side of the door, since it's most likely the delivery person.

"...that'll be twelve dollars" I hear the delivery girl say excitedly

"Here you are, keep the change." Ryan replies, somehow annoyed.

"Thank you, and take this. Call me" she says flirtaciously.

Oh hell no. Ryan's mine and I'm not up for sharing.

He walks back into the room, pizza box in hand and a crumpled up piece of paper on top of it.

"That girl tried giving me her number. Too bad I already love someone else" he says, sitting next to me on the couch "oh, there's also the fact that I love taking it up the ass"

I laugh and get closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. "I love you too" I reply, kissing him on the side of the neck

He resumes the movie we were watching, and wraps his arm around my shoulder.

~~~

We're laying on the couch, spooning, the pizza box now empty and long forgotten.

Everything seems so calm. The Christmas tree shines brightly, gently painting the boring white walls rainbow. The movie now seems boring, the images becoming out of focus to my tired eyes. Ryan's warm lips are pressed to the back of my neck, his arms wrapped around my middle, giving me a sense of protection and safeness. The neighbors are quiet, the air almost too still for it to be comfortable. There's no white noise tonight, the cars are all still, frozen from the heavy snow that's still falling from this morning, various animals now hidden in their shelters to keep warm. I feel so calm it's almost unreal.

I can feel myself drift off to sleep, the television, now kept at a low volume, the warmth of Ryan's body against my back and the softness of the blanket we're sharing allowing me to do so.

"Babe, do you want me to carry you to bed?" He whispers in my ear, his honey like voice sending shivers down my spine.

"Yeah, please" I reply, and he untangles himself from the blanket, and effortlessly scoops me up in his arms, mine almost instantly securing themselves around his neck.

He waddles to our room, and even though I'm clearly too heavy for him to carry me, he does it anyway.

He slowly lowers me on our bed, and takes the blanket we were using in the living room off of me.

I take off my sweatpants, and get under the soft covers. Ryan does the same, and we go back into the position we were in on the couch, my back pressed against his chest, his arms loosely wrapped around my waist and his lips against the back of my neck.

"'Night Baby" he whispers in my ear, tugging me even closer, so we can share the same pillow.

I mumble a "Goodnight Ry" in response, before my eyes drop shut, and I grow relaxed in his arms, sleep taking me away.

~~~

I wake up to Ryan delicately kissing up and down my neck, his cold lips feeling like heaven against my overheated skin

"Merry Christmas baby" he whispers in my ear, caressing my side with his warm hand, his voice raspy and sweet.

"Merry Christmas" I mumble back, turning around so I can face him.

I stare in his deep brown eyes, and he's looking down, at my lips. I lean in, pressing our lips together sweetly, the kiss lazy and filled with love.

I bring him closer, pressing our chests together, and intertwining our naked legs.

He parts his lips and teasingly traces my bottom lip with his tongue. I smile slightly, and part my lips, letting him deepen the kiss.

He pulls back, and I'm still smiling against his lips. He smiles back, and we just lay there, smiling on each other's lips, looking each other in the eyes, exploring pieces of emotions we never thought we could feel.

"God, I love you so much it fucking hurts" I whisper against his lips, slipping my hands under his shirt, brushing them against the soft skin of his back, just to have more skin to skin contact.

"I fucking love you too baby" he says, and our lips connect again in a smooth, chaste kiss.

We kiss for a couple of minutes, until I pull back to rest my head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, wanting him even closer.

He whispers something in my ear that I can't quite catch, but I decide not to ask him to repeat it and silence falls between us, leaving us still, holding each other close like we often do, as a reminder that we're here for each other, ready to love no matter what happens.

~~~  
We both sit at the counter in our kitchen, still not talking, our hands interlocked.

All is heard is the gentle clash of forks hitting our plates as we eat the pancakes we've made for breakfast.

"Do you want to open our gifts now, or later?" He asks, excited. He clearly wants to open them right now.

I take the last bite of my breakfast and reply with a "I know you want to do it right now. Let me just bring the plates to the sink"

I grab his plate, and put them in the sink, but when I turn around Ryan has already gone into the living room.

I walk into the room, to see him sitting on the carpet next to the tree.

I smile, and shake my head, but sit next to him anyways. He's behaving like a little kid right now.

He grabs the black paper bag from our friends, and takes three boxes out of it: one for me and one for Ryan from both Frank and Gerard and a smaller one from Mikey for the both of us.

I carefully unwrap the box, careful not to tear the pretty wrapping paper. I open the box, to find a panic! at the party and a fall in boy t-shirt from hot topic, the ones I really wanted to buy but never had the time to.  
(I know, I'm so original lol)

Ryan shows me his box, and it contains the same things, except his are waterslides and twenty white pilots shirts.

"How the fuck did they know I like waterslides? I don't think I've ever told them" He asks, a bit confused, but obviously accepting of the gift anyways.

"You aren't really subtle babe, I've seen how you drool over Awsten" I reply, shaking my head.

He shrugs, and grabs the gift from Mikey, and tears the paper off, looking into the box. He blushes bright red, and turns the box, so I can see what's inside.

It's a pack of condoms, and a bottle of lube.

I start laughing hysterically, Ryan soon following.

"Oh my fucking god, I hate that little shit" I exclaim, tossing the box aside.

I feel him shifting slightly, and he gets closer to my ear.

"We might need those later tonight, though" he whispers, before getting back to unwrapping the gift I got him.

Oh hell yes.

"You didn't! Oh my god, Bren! I fucking love this!" He gasps, and I smile. I knew he would like that.

"Can you try it on? I want to see how it looks on you." I ask, knowing well that he will look amazing in it.

He nods, and gets out of the room, only to come back a minute or so later, the bright red of the vest suiting him perfectly, the delicate roses on the shoulder make him look even better (i've been crying over that vest all day)

"It's beautiful. I really mean it. Thank you baby" he says, before sitting back down next to me.

He kisses me on the cheek, letting his lips linger for a little more than necessary, but I don't mind.

I start unwrapping the box in my lap, and carefully lift the kid of the box. It's the my artificial romance's may death never stop you colored vinyl. Oh my god, he didn't.

"I fucking love this thing more than I love myself. Thank you Ry" I thank, and kiss him on the cheek, just like he did seconds ago.

I carefully take the precious vinyl, and put it with all the other ones we own, near the record player.

He walks up to me, and hugs me from behind "How about we clean this mess up, and then make christmas cookies while listening to that vinyl?"

~~~

'Fake your death' softly plays in the background, as Ryan and I attempt to bake some sugar Christmas cookies.

"Ryan, baby, that's salt" I say, taking the cup he was about to pour into the bowl with the other ingredients.

"It is?" He asks, and scoops up a little of it with his fingers, bringing it to his mouth  
"It definitely is" he states, taking a glass from the counter, to fill it with water.

I shake my head, smiling, and empty the cup back into the salt jar, rinsing it out and putting some sugar in it.

I pour the sugar in, and hand him the bowl. He's always been better at this stuff than me.

"And now we wait" he announces, covering the bowl and putting it in the fridge.

~~~

It's been around five hour since we've made the dough, and now the cookies are all ready and cool enough to put the icing on top.

I hold the store bought tube of red icing carefully, adding details to the roses on my little ryan shaped cookie.

"Aw. It's so pretty" he cooes, looking at the cookie from over my shoulder.

"I know. It's because you're pretty too" I reply, still focused on my cookie, and I can just feel him blushing at the compliment.

"Oh shut up Bren. I'm not pretty" he replies, and only now i turn around.

He's blushing, arms crossed around himself. And he has some blue icing smeared on the tip of his nose.

"Baby, how the hell did you manage to get icing on your nose?" I laugh, getting closer to him.

"Where?" He asks, but before he can clean it off, I've already leaned in and kissed it off his skin.

"There" I reply, making him blush even harder.

"Aw, stop it" he says, annoyed, but smiles anyways and I just turn around to put my Ryan cookie with all the other ones.

I look over at where Ryan was icing his cookies and I see a me shaped one. I smile, and put it next to mine, to make them look like they're holding hands.

"Do you want hot chocolate with these or milk?" I ask, grabbing two mugs from a cabinet.

(I fucking dare you to make milk fic references. I fucking dare you)

"Chocolate" he replies, grabbing the plate, and turning away to bring it to the living room, a light blush still coating his cheeks.

I quickly make the two cups of hot chocolate, and follow him into the living room.

He's curled up on the couch, looking at the snow outside, quietly nibbling on a santa shaped cookie.

I quietly walk over to him, offering him one the cups, the one I had decorated with mini marshmallows. He looks up at me, and smiles, silently thanking me.

I smile back, and curl up next to him, and he wraps his arm around my waist, calmly sipping his drink.

I grab a cookie, and lean into his shoulder, feeling a sense of peace.

I feel so, so loved right now. Four years ago I would have never imagined even the possibility of being this happy, curled up on the couch of an apartment I own with the person I love the most in this world.

And everything is suddenly quiet again, just like last night, the only thing that is heard is the small sound of us putting our cups down to eat the cookies.

"I love you" he whispers, his words as loud as a hurricane in the still room.

"I love you too" I reply almost instantly, sure of my words.

He gently tilts my face, so I'm looking at him, and sweetly pecks me on the lips, his touch lingering for more than necessary.

"How did I get so lucky?" He rhetorically asks, and I kiss him again.

He pulls back, but decides that it's not enough, and pulls me back in for a deeper kiss.

His hands firmly grip my hips, and my hands automatically go up his back, to tangle themselves into his hair.

I swing one of my legs over him, straddling his hips. He parts his lips, and I let my tongue slip inside his mouth, deepening the kiss more.

I accidentally tug at his hair, and he lets out a small moan against my lips, grinding his hips up into mine.

I pull back from the kiss, and begin to kiss up his jaw, and start to suck harshly at the skin under his ear, marking him.

He moans, and tilts his head back, exposing more of his neck. I start to kiss and lick and bite at it. 

"Please Brendon. Fuck me" he pleads, and I smirk, getting off of him, and tugging him to the bedroom.

Turns out Mikey's gift wasn't as silly as we thought.


	2. Sleepwalking ~ Frerard

Originally posted on april 22 2019

Song(s): sleepwalking, bring me the horizon

TW: SUICIDE, CUTTING, HOSPITALS

I turn my head, my wet hair sticking in dark, thick clumps to my face and neck as I frantically down the last handful of blue pills, the empty bottle floating in the cold water of the bathtub.

I hope that this will be enough, because this is my third attempt and this time I'm really sure that I don't want to live anymore.

I'll never be good enough.

I look at myself in the fogged up mirror of the bathroom, and then back at my own body. I carefully feel up and down my side, comforting myself in a weird way, feeling the way my ribs seem to stick out even under my shirt. I can't remember the last time I ate normally for a day.

I'm fat anyways, aren't I?

I look at my scarred up wrists, the same wrists that Gerard hates looking at.

And I don't blame him, because who would like to look at the bloody wrists of a fucking emo kid?

My mind wanders back to Gerard, and to the letter I left on his bed earlier today. He probably read it by now but I don't care.

I think about the way he starts to read the letter, the blue pen ink scribbled messily on a piece of paper I tore out of a notebook.

He wasn't supposed to read that. That was one of the drafts of the final letter I was planning on giving him but I couldn't wait any longer. I had to this today.

"Gee, I'm so so, sorry, but this isn't my place" were the last words I wrote.

I didn't even sign it.

I start to shake, because I'm so, so cold and the ice cold water I'm laying in isn't helping the situation.

It'll all be over soon, I remind myself.

This is it, I tell myself. This is how I disappear

Years and years of abuse, loneliness and self hatred come to an end.

My mind goes to my parents, the way that they never cared about me in my twenty one years of life.

They never really cared and I don't blame them, because who would like to be the parent of a fuck up?

I'm the worst son anyone ever had.

And I think about Gerard again. Gerard, my only sunshine. The only thing that's good in my mess of a life. The only one that ever believed in me, even at my worst. The only source of love and happiness and warmth I've ever had, and I wish I was strong enough to hold onto him and never let go, but I'm a just a coward that isn't strong enough to keep on living like I should be doing.

I relish in the last memories I have of him, the last kiss he pressed to my chapped lips, the way he held me so tightly and yet so carefully, like someone would hold a porcelain doll.

I think about the last 'I love you' he told me before I left.

The way he laughed with me, and he the way was so, so clueless about what I'm doing right now.

That's the last moment of happiness I'll ever feel.

The drugs start to slowly take action, my head grows heavier and my legs stop shaking from where they're propped up against the edge of the tub.

My ears pick up the static, sticky sound of the record player I left on in my room, the lyrics of a record I know way too well, finding the irony of this all way too much for me to handle.

The record that helped me through so many sleepless nights and so many shitty days is going to be the last sound I'll ever hear.

A silver shine catches my eye, and I already know it's a razor, and I carelessly pick it up, cutting up my fingertips, but right now I could care less, all that matters is pain.

I listen to the lyrics, as they metaphorically set downwards, deep into my heart like they did hundreds of times before.

With shaky hands I put the razor to my pale wrist, dragging it one, two, three, four times, hissing in pain.

I deserve this.

Blood starts dripping from the wounds, crimson red splashes corrupting the clear state of the water.

Pain, pain, pain. It's all I can think about. The piercing pain of a razor blade ripping through my skin, the pain of blood bubbling to the surface.

My head starts pounding, and I start to feel overly dizzy, the worst part of overdosing kicking in.

I carelessly throw the razor over the edge of the tub leaving blood smudges on the white tub, right after slitting my other wrist, because asymmetrical things didn't feel right.

I throw my head backwards because it suddenly becomes too heavy, as I start to sink into the freezing water, the last rays of sunlight of the day peeking out of the blinds.

I breath in for the last time, just as my head goes completely under the bloody water.

The last thing I can hear is a yelled, frantic call of my name.

"Frank!"

~~~

I wake up in a place I can't quite recognize.

I quickly scan the room, only to realize that this is a hospital room, and that that thing in my arm is an IV.

No, no, no I shouldn't be alive. Why am I still alive?

I see someone sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, their ink colored hair shielding their face from my view, as they read a book.

It's Gerard.

"Gerard" I call out, my voice hoarse and my throat dry.

His head immediately snaps up to look at me.

"You're awake. Oh my god you're finally awake"

He jumps up from his seat and runs up to the side of my bed, and before I can say anything else he has already hugged me.

I don't protest, and return the gesture weakly, burying my face into his neck.

I feel something wetting the hospital gown i'm wearing. Gerard is crying.

He pulls back from the hug, and wipes his face with the back of his sleeve.

"I'll call a nurse to come check up on you, and we'll talk later, okay?" He says, and I nod.

He presses the call button and stays to my side, holding my hand, until a woman comes into the room. Then, he goes back to his chair in the corner, quietly watching the woman do her job.

"Okay Frank, you seem to be in stable enough conditions. Tomorrow a doctor is going to visit you and assign you to a therapist in the suicide watch program and we'll see what to do from there" the woman says sweetly, brushing a strand of her bleach blonde hair off her shoulder.

I flinch at the words 'suicide watch' and she notices.

"I'm sorry, it's the standard procedure"

"I'll leave you with your friend, is that okay?" She asks, smiling sympathetically at me.

I nod, and she leaves the room quickly, leaving silence behind her.

"Before we start talking, can I have some water?" I ask, breaking the silence.

"Sure" he replies, and grabs a water bottle from the bag sitting next to his chair.

He hands it to me, and I take a couple of sips, sighing in relief.

I can physically see the tension in the room.

"Why?" he simply asks.

"I didn't-" I breathe out, before starting again "I'm not okay Gee. I never was. You saw only the surface of it all, and even that was bad enough. I simply couldn't stand living again- I just couldn't. Because I can't understand why I'm alive, because I clearly shouldn't be here. I'm not special, I'm not pretty and I'm not smart and there's so much beauty in this world and I feel like I'm just not meant to be here and I'm sounding just so fucking dumb right now and I-" I choke out, stumbling on my own words.

I start to pick and scratch at the bandages wrapped around my wrists, and Gerard stops me, slipping one of his hands into mine, squeezing it softly.

"I'm feeling like an insecure fourteen year old girl right now. I shouldn't even be here right now. I should be dead"

I pause for a second, and take a deep breath, before continuing.

"I should be dead. I'm not worthy of being alive, there are so many people that are so much better than me. I should be dead, I sh-"

"Frank, look at me please" he cuts me off

I look up at him, expecting anger, and maybe disappointment. He looks at me with soft eyes, and a small frown.

He looks hurt.

"Why didn't you tell me this? I could've helped you. I could've taken you to a therapist or something like that"

"I didn't feel like you would have cared. Because I mean, why would you? Even my own fucking mother doesn't care about me" I answer truthfully, and he shakes his head

"I care so, so much about you. You don't even know"

I raise my arms slightly and he catches the hint, enveloping me in another hug, holding me in a way that makes me feel special, one of his hands at the middle of my back and one supporting the back of my head.

"I'm sorry" I whisper "I'm so, so sorry"

He places a kiss on the side of my neck, where his head is resting, his lips lingering there for a couple of seconds more than necessary, and I know that he forgives me.

Well, for now.

"You'll be okay. I'm not leaving you" he says back "you'll be fine"

He starts to cry again, and I pull back from the hug

"I saw your almost lifeless body being dragged out of your bathtub, Frank. There was blood everywhere" He chokes out "That was the worse moment of my entire life. I thought that you were dead."

I wipe away the tears from his face with the hand that isn't connected to the IV, because I know that he doesn't want needles anywhere near him, in an attempt to soothe him.

"I'm alive, it's okay, I'm okay, don't cry please" I say, attempting to smile.

"Can I kiss you? Please" he asks, sitting next to me on the uncomfortable hospital bed.

I nod, and he leans in slowly. He kisses me softly, not to overwhelm me, probably.

The kiss is warm, slick and close mouthed, his hands are placed gently but firmly on my hips, and my IV free hand is playing with the hair at the back of his neck

"I love you" I whisper against his lips, before pulling back with a small smile on my face.

He's my only sunshine. The only source of light in my dark life.

"I love you too" he replies, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, sitting closer to me.

I smile slightly at that, because this is one of the rare times that I let myself believe it.

My eyelids start to grow heavier, my tired body drained of what little energy it had left by the emotionally intense interactions.

"Do you want to sleep a little more?" He asks and I nod softly, resting my head on his chest, almost purring at his warmth.

And even though the dark thoughts at the back of my mind try to come to the surface again, I finally manage to fall asleep again, lulled by Gerard's even breathing.

~~~   
A/n hey guys, I'm finally back from my small break with this one shot. It's not my best work but lately I really haven't been feeling okay and I needed something to get this all off of my chest.

I love you all, stay safe, and if you feel like Frank in this one shot, please, please talk to someone and get help from a professional.

-kindasortaemo :)


	3. Party at the end of the world ~ Frerard

Posted on: 10/06/19

Genre: angst/fluff

Tw: very light mentions of transphobia (implied misgendering, no slurs or stuff like that)

Song(s): party at the end of the world, my chemical romance   
Pinkish, gerard way

A/n: here's a one shot with trans frank no one asked for. enjoy.

~~~

I'm angry- no, scratch that -I'm fucking furious, outraged, pissed, however the fuck you want to call it.

I'm walking down a road- no, wait, scratch that too -I'm running down a road, my backpack swinging wildly.

The only sound I can hear is the sound of my rushed steps, my converse scraping against the asphalt of the sidewalk.

It's dark, and it's raining lightly, and it's fucking cold, and I should be wearing a jacket, but I don't care.

My legs hurt from all the weight that I'm carrying, but right now I could care less, all that I know is that I need to get to Gerard's house, and fast, too, before my parents can pull another of their stunts and drag me back inside that shithole they call a house.

They've done that before, and I know they can do it again.

My knees threaten to give up under my weight, but I run faster.

They kicked me out, again, but this time I won't fucking come back, no matter how much they cry and scream and say that "we miss you, you're our only daughter!"

Yeah, daughter. Sure.

Fuck them. Fuck their stupid, hateful, bigoted, closed off mind.

I won't play along to their little manipulative games.

This time I kicked all of my shit in a backpack and a suitcase and I left, without a word, without even leaving a note.

I could give less of a fuck about the precious little feelings of those fucking assholes

I'm tired of them. I'm tired of having no privacy, I'm tired of having to be perfect, I'm tired of being mocked and teased and ridiculed, I'm tired of being judged and misgendered, I'm tired of being told that it's just a phase and that I should grow out of it soon.

I'm eighteen for fuck's sake, I'm sure I can determine my own gender.

I want to be free.

It's starting to rain harder, and I'm getting cold, but I can't bring myself to care about it right now

The rain mixes with the sweat running down my face, and it's oddly calming.

My hands itch, so, so badly, and I feel the urge to just punch something -or someone- and tear it into little pieces with my bare hands.

I can't stand even just the thought of them. My parents, that is.

By the time I get to Gerard's house I'm soaked with water, my shoulder lenght hair uncomfortably sticking to my neck, and I can feel the ice cold of the rain seeping into my bones, and just now I realize how exhausted, both mentally and physically, I actually am.

I knock on the door, in a pattern the entire Way family recognizes very well, since I've been using it for the past year or so.

They're the family I wish I had, they've always accepted me for who I am, and the fact that their son is dating a trans boy never bothered them at all.

I wish I could say the same about my parents, I really do.

The door swings open almost instantly, and a very soft looking Gerard is standing on the other side, a very confused look on his face.

"Frank? Oh my god, you're soaked, come in" he says, quickly grabbing the backpack I'm carrying out of my shaky hands.

I step inside, and I know I should feel bad for dripping all over the clean, light colored floor, but right now I have bigger things to worry about.

"What-" he sighs "What happened, are you okay?"

"Can we talk about it once I'm dry and possibly in one of your hoodies? I'm so fucking cold" I say, slamming the door closed with my foot.

He nods quickly, and leads me to the bathroom.

~~~

"So, do you want to tell me what's going on? I'm getting worried" Gerard asks, his voice softer than usual.

We're sitting on the couch in his living room, I'm sitting as close as possible to him without actually sitting on him, our knees and hips touching, his arm around me.

I wrap myself further into the way too big hoodie Gerard let me borrow, and he holds me closer to himself, sensing my discomfort.

"I got kicked out, again"

Silence falls between us for a couple of seconds, and I wonder about what's going through his mind, even though I have a pretty good idea of it.

I can see the muscles in his arms flex and his fists clench, his face changing expressions suddenly, from a soft, worried one to an angry one that I've seen only once or twice on him.

"Are you fucking kidding me? They did it again?" He half yells.

I nod, and I look at him a little closer and only now I can see how fucking pissed he actually is. He's way more than just angry.

"They can't-"

"They can, I'm eighteen, legally there isn't anything stopping them" I sigh bitterly.

My anger towards them simmered down since I got out of their house, only to be replaced by coldness and tiredness.

"Those fucking assholes," he pauses for a moment, trying to rationalize his anger and string words into a phrase with a proper structure and a meaning.

"They just can't- why would they even- how could they- what the fuck- I don't-" he struggles to form a coherent sentence.

"How could they kick you out? A parent is supposed to support their child no matter who they are"

"Apparently, they never loved me." I sigh sadly, tears already forming in my eyes.

I know they never did. They never loved me, I'm sure. They never loved me because I was just told to 'get over it'- whatever that's supposed to mean in this context - instead of accepting me for who I am.

It hurts.

It hurts so bad, and I know it shouldn't, I know I shouldn't care, but I do. I care maybe even a little too much.

I start to shake again, but this time it's not because of the cold. I let out a particularly loud sob and Gerard notices almost instantly.

"Oh no baby, come here" he says, returning to the softer version of himself he was just minutes ago, pulling me into his lap.

I bury my face into his neck, thick tears rolling down my face.

He rubs my back soothingly, warming up my cold body.

"Let it all out, you'll feel better"

I try to choke out a sentence between the tears, but all that comes out of my efforts is a shaky word or two.

"I just don't get why. I didn't do anything wrong, I didn't piss them off, I tried so hard to make them understand and to-" A sob cuts me off mid sentence "i don't know, restore our relationship? I don't know"

"They decided that I wasn't useful to them anymore and they just told me to pack my stuff and leave" I continue, letting out another sob. "And even then they still called me their daughter"

"Am I not good enough the way I am?"

"Don't you dare say that. Don't. You're much more than what they made you believe. You're so, so special, and most importantly, you're valid. You're a boy, no matter what they say"

If he stops holding me I might actually fall apart right now.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and squeezes me harder.

We stay like that, my face pressed up against his skin and his arms around me in a protective way for what feels like hours.

"You'll be fine, baby. You'll be just fine" he soothes, his voice breathy, a sort of half whisper.

"What if I won't be?"

"You will be. No what ifs"

My crying slowly stops, but I'm still shaking wildly from the cold I was exposed to just a little under an hour ago.

Everything hurts, and I wish I could just sleep forever just like this, in Gerard's lap, my head in the crook of his neck.

He starts to rub my back again, but this time he slips his hands under my -well, technically his- hoodie

I let out a loud, surprised squeak at the feeling of his hands on my naked skin, and I can just feel his lips bending into a smirk.

"You're so cold, are you okay?" He asks. I shake my head in response.

"I'm cold, everything hurts and I'm tired. I haven't been sleeping well since the last time I slept over here"

That was over two weeks ago.

"Do you want to go lay down with me upstairs?" This time I nod, and with a swift, well practiced move he places his hands under my thighs and he starts carrying me to his room.

I wrap my arms around his neck, and while I know he's struggling to carry me, he doesn't seem to mind.

We walk into his room, and he slams the door closed with his foot.

"Come on, you can let go now" he says, as he places me on his bed.

He lays down beside me, and I cover both of us with the blanket that's neatly folded at the foot of the bed.

I curl up against his chest again, and I can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear. It's calming, and for a moment -just a moment- I forget about anything that isn't in this room.

He wraps his arms around me protectively, and there's nothing I'm afraid of right now, his touch making me feel safe and at ease.

"I love you" I whisper softly

He starts to thread his fingers through my hair in a way that he knows is extremely soothing to me.

"I know, I love you too, baby" 

My heart flutters at the pet name, and I place a kiss on Gerard's chest, over his shirt, and he lets out an almost inaudible sigh.

My shaking ceases after ten minutes or so, finally warming up after all that time spent in the cold rain outside.

"Gee?" I call, in a way that seems way too shy for what I'm about to ask.

He lets out a noise of agreement to let me know he heard me.

"Can I kiss you?" I ask, getting out of his grip and moving so I can face him.

He doesn't answer, but he just leans in, resting his hand on my cheek, leaving me to close the gap between us. The kiss is warm and almost innocent, just a touching of lips and nothing more.

His kiss is the calm after the storm, what really makes me feel better after things similar to what I faced today.

I'm the one to pull back, a small smile making its way onto my face.

Gerard smiles too, and for once I believe I'll actually be okay.

I kiss him again, this time a bit more firmly. His lips are chapped but soft and warm and everything I really need right now.

This time, he's the one to pull back, and his smile is even wider.

I can't help it, and I smile wider too.

"Come on Frank, you said you were tired. Let's nap."

I nod, and he shifts, so his back is facing me, so we can spoon. Despite being way smaller than him, I'm the one holding him now, just like we always do when we're sleeping together.

I bury my face in his hair and I can feel his fingers slotting in between mine, his hand almost completely covering my smaller one, where it's placed on his chest. He gives my hand a small squeeze, as if to say 'I'm here for you'

We'll be okay.

I'll be okay.


	4. Truce ~ Petekey

Posted on: 14/06/19

Genre: Angst

Tw: self harm, depression

Song(s): truce, twenty one pilots

A/n: I'm depressed as fuck and I like to project myself into my characters (no, i don't self harm, by the way. I do the skin peeling thing though. That's not really self harm, right?) and this came out, so here you go I guess. I'm sorry that it's so short. Also I didn't want this to be published so soon because I didn't reread it enough but fuck it.

~~~

It's late at night. I don't know how late, but I know that the sun set hours ago.

The room is almost completely dark, and it's quiet. Almost excessively so. The only sound that I can hear is the light tap of the rain against the window.

I'm in Pete and I's bedroom, laying in bed. I don't know how much we've stayed in this position and I'm getting pretty uncomfortable, but I'm sure Pete isn't, so I just suck it up even though my back is aching.

Pete relapsed today- or maybe I should say yesterday, since it's probably past midnight -and I don't even know why. He hasn't said anything about it yet.

He is cuddled up to my side, lost in his own thoughts.

I know what he's thinking about. But I don't really want to say it, because it hurts me too.

Maybe he feels worthless. Maybe he feels useless. Maybe he feels untalented. Maybe he feels ugly. Maybe he doesn't want to be alive anymore. Maybe he just doesn't feel anything. Maybe I got it all wrong and it's not just him and maybe it's my fault.

He isn't okay today, and this is not the first time this happens, but it still hurts like hell for the both of us.

When I came home from work I instantly knew something was wrong. Pete wasn't in the living room watching youtube videos like he usually would have been and he wasn't in the kitchen cooking dinner either.

He was in the bathroom, a knife in his hand. I didn't say anything when I saw his arm dripping with blood and his empty eyes staring straight at it.

I didn't say anything at the blood soaked shirt he was wearing.

I didn't say anything at the chewed up and peeled skin on his hands.

I didn't say anything when he wouldn't even look at me.

I didn't say anything when I had to help him stand up, because he didn't have the strength to do it on his own.

I didn't say anything at his bloodshot eyes and his messed up hair and at the way he seemed lost.

I didn't say anything even when I flinched at the sight of the three raw, angry lines on his wrist when I cleaned his arm up.

I didn't say anything, even when he hissed in pain and almost started screaming at me because I bandaged his arm too tightly and accidentally reopened one of his wounds.

I didn't say anything at the blood that seeped through the material of the bandage, staining it a deep red.

I didn't say anything when I helped him lay on our bed and he looked the other way when I laid beside him.

He didn't want to be touched at first. And I understood. I wouldn't want to be touched either in his situation. But, like he always does, he slowly broke the barrier between us and came closer.

He didn't talk either. He didn't talk, because he didn't want to, or because he didn't know what to say or because he didn't have the strength to. I don't know.

He didn't talk when I gave him a shirt to replace his blood stained one.

He didn't talk when I held his hand tightly to stop him from picking at the skin at the back of his other hand.

He didn't talk even when he started shaking and he didn't stop until I hugged him close to my chest.

He didn't talk, even when he started to cry. I just held him close and kissed the top of his head until he stopped.

He didn't talk, and I didn't say anything.

I know that words are useless when he's like this, and there's not a lot I can do either. I can just watch over him until he's stable enough and then bring him to his therapist.

He probably just forgot- or neglected -to take his pills.

I'm not mad and I'm not disappointed. I know it's hard for him. Especially at night. So I stay close to him, because I don't want to lose him.

I know I should be mad, or disappointed at least, I know I should be fucking furious or something like that but I can't bring myself to be and maybe it's better this fucking way.

"Mikey?" He croaks out, his voice rough from not using it for so long.

I almost get startled at the sound, I wasn't expecting him to talk at all tonight, but I pull myself back together quickly enough and form a proper answer.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry"

He's going to apologize all night now. I know that he's blaming himself for this mess but I'm sure that he's wrong. He can't control his mental illness, after all.

"I know" I say, and I hold him closer. He sighs, and nuzzles his face against my neck.

I don't say that it's okay, because that's a lie, and we both know that. I don't tell him that he shouldn't worry either, because that would be a lie too.

"Are you mad at me?"

He sounds genuinely pained at the idea of me being mad.

"No. I'm not. You should know that by now. I'm not disappointed either. I'm just worried about you"

"I'm sorry"

"I know. It's not your fault."

He'll blame everything on himself anyway. And I wish that he wouldn't do that, but he will, most likely.

"It's not your fault" I state again.

For a second I convince myself that he actually believes me and that he's okay.

He doesn't talk.

I sigh, and the only source of light in the room- the lamp on my bedside table -flickers off for a brief moment.

"Why?" I ask, and he doesn't need any further explanation about what I'm asking.

"Stress. There's a lot on my mind lately and I forgot to take my pills this morning and that happened-" he pauses for a second, and we both know that he's talking about the cutting and the peeling of the skin on his hands "because I've been fighting the urge for a while"

"And then there's this whole thing of me feeling so numb today and then I looked at myself in the mirror and I just-" he says "I just snapped. I don't know what came over me"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't feel like it would have mattered to you"

"Pete-"

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I know that I shouldn't think like this but I just-" he chokes out.

"I know that you're sorry, and you're right, you shouldn't think that I don't care, but I told you to tell me stuff like this no matter what you think, we've been over this thousands of times too"

I regret some of that sentence, and I wonder if I maybe was a little too harsh.

"I'm sorry"

He starts to cry again, and the feeling of his tears against my naked neck is kinda gross but I don't say anything about it.

I definitely regret telling him that. I definitely was too hard on him.

I shift and lay on my side instead than on my back, so I can face him. I wipe his tears away, and kiss his forehead.

"I'm sorry for being a bit of an asshole. I really am. I didn't mean to be so harsh on you baby"

"No, you're right, it's okay"

"It's not okay. I should have worded that differently. What I was trying to say is that, no matter what you think, I love you and I care about you and it's better if I know when you're feeling like this so I can help you before you hurt yourself"

This time he sighs. He knows that I'm right and he's probably hating himself for thinking that he doesn't matter to me.

"You're-" he breathes "you're right. I'm sorry"

He lays closer to me, a few stray tears still escaping his tired eyes. I wipe those away too and he gives me a weak, forced smile.

"Can you hold me, please?" he asks into my chest, his voice muffled by my shirt.

I do what he asked for, and I wrap my arms around his middle, and I start to rub his back in small circles in an attempt to calm him a little. My other hand goes into his greasy, dry hair, threading through it lightly.

Everything falls silent, and except for the sound of his labored breathing, there's nothing else I can hear.

"I'm sorry."

"I know. I forgive you."

He buries himself further into my arms, amd I squeeze him tighter.

"You'll be okay. We'll make it through the night and tomorrow it's another day and we can try again, okay?" I reassure him.

He nods weakly.

"I love you"

"I know baby, now try to sleep a little, okay? Its late and it'll help you get a bit better"

He nods again.

"I'm sorry for making you worry" he apologizes again.

"I know that. I forgive you. Now sleep, you need it"

He nods for the third time.

I want to sleep too, but I don't let myself. I want to keep an eye on Pete until he's okay again.

"I love you"

"I love you too" I reply, and kiss the top of his head again, like earlier tonight.

I know that this time he believes me.

Everything falls silent again, and I feel him relax in my arms, his breathing getting slower and calmer as time passes.

Around a couple of hours after Pete fell asleep, the sun begins to peak through the almost closed off blinds, painting streaks of yellow and orange on the light blue walls of our bedroom.

I press a kiss to the top of his head again, careful not to wake him up "You made it, baby. You stayed alive" I whisper to no one in particular, since he can't hear me.

I finally let myself shut my eyes, and I curl up against the warm person pressed up against me, and I know that he'll be fine.

He made it through the night, and that's what matters.


	5. Ruby ~ Joshler

Posted on: 14/06/19

Genre: fluff

Tw: very light mentioning of bullying and depression. (aka why do all my one shots have a tw)

Song(s): Ruby, twenty one pilots

Turn it off, paramore

A/n: I literally wrote this in one day I never write like more than 800 words a day wtf is happening. Anyway, here's a fluffy joshler, it turned out completely different from what i wanted but i still like it. It's a bit short but whatever. (It's also unedited as fuck)

~~~

We were around four or five when we first met. I can't quite remember everything about that day, it was around twenty years ago after all, but I remember him coming up to me, his face kinda lost behind his curly hair, a box of crayons and a coloring book in hand, and the fact that I was sitting alone on one of the colorful puzzle shaped mats, it was purple, I think, and I remember that the air smelled vaguely of play doh.

"Do you want to color fishies with me?"

I agreed almost instantly. He was, and still is, actually, my first real friend.

We grew close quickly, we were always at each other's houses for play dates, and soon enough, we were stuck together.

"He's Josh, my best friend!"

I remember our first day of first grade, and I remember how he squeezed my hand tightly. I was afraid of losing him in between of the crowd of older, bigger kids around us, so I didn't question him, and held his hand anyway. I remember that I thought that I was about to die from how anxious I felt.

"Ty, hold my hand. It'll make you less scared"

He held my hand every first day of school we even had in our lives since then.

I remember sitting next to him in class everyday- our teachers didn't want to pull us apart, we weren't really productive when we were alone- and I remember my joyful six year old self poking him with pencils constantly to piss him off. He would just get annoyed and frown a little.

"Tyler, stop, you're getting annoying"

"I'm sorry Josh"

"It's okay"

I remember our first day of middle school, and I remember being called names by the older kids just for that simple gesture, but we didn't care. I loved it, it made me feel more at ease, and I'm sure that Josh felt the same.

"Look, guys, the local gays have arrived!"

I remember the first time I helped him after the words of the older kids weren't just words anymore. I remember that I flinched at the blood coming out of his broken nose, but I helped him anyway.

"Josh, come on, let's go to the nurse"

I remember our first kiss, twelve or so years ago, the summer before the beginning of our high school years. I was thirteen, he was fourteen, and we didn't know what we were doing. I remember it being late at night, in his bedroom, cuddling on his bed. I likely was sleeping over at house, I can't quite remember.

"Ty, can I kiss you?"

I'll never forget the way his lips felt against mine for the first time. It wasn't the best kiss of my life, not at all, but it was probably the most memorable. I remember his hands on my shoulders and the color of Josh's shirt- it was a pale pink, and I'm pretty sure it was mine, too- and his lips were slightly chapped but they were soft and warm and better than anything thirteen year old me was expecting.

I remember Josh coming out to his parents. It was a little after our first kiss. I remember being by his side, and I held his hand, but this time he was the scared one.

"Mom, dad, I'm gay"

I remember him crying, and I remember his parents hugging him close.

"It's okay Josh, we love you anyway"

I remember our first day of high school. He held my hand the same way he did the years before that day, but this time it was more than a friendly gesture. I remember eyeing the crowd of students near us, trying to find another couple that didn't seem like a straight one.

"I'm scared Josh, what will other people think about us?"

In the end, nobody really cared. Nobody really cared, yes, some people stared, but it was always better than getting shoved around.

I remember the first time he went to see one of my- actually, it was the first for me too -basketball matches. I remember the screeching of my shoes on the not so clean floors of our school gym.

"Josh, we won!"

I remember the way he held me afterwards. It made me feel like the luckiest fourteen year old in the world.

I remember my own coming out. I remember Josh being there, by my side, holding my hand, just like he always did. I remember the way the rain splashed against the windows, and I remember the dull purple shirt I was wearing.

"Dad, Mom, I-"

"Come on Ty, you can do it"

"I like boys"

I remember being hugged by my mother and patted on the back by my father

"It's okay"

Fourteen year old me never felt more alive.

I remember the first time I asked him out. It was winter, just before the holidays. I remenber his scarf- that was worn by me more that by him, but he didn't really care- it was ruby red, and we were holding hands after coming back from school. I remember that it was cold, and it was snowing, and I remember being so afraid of rejection- even though it was really unnecessary, we were basically a couple -that I wanted to crawl in a hole right after asking him.

"Will you, maybe, just if you want, I'm not forcing you, possibly-"

"Ty, you're rambling"

"Right, sorry. Will you go on a date with me?"

I remember our first date. It was at a local diner. We still go there on dates from time to time. I remember the way he never let go of my hand. I remember that I ordered a lemonade, and I remember the smile of the waitress that served us.

"And what can I bring you, boys?"

I remember the time I asked him to be my boyfriend. It was spring, and we were watching the sky, laying in the backyard of my childhood house, surrounded by my mother's flowers, because we were stressed my exams and we needed somewhere quiet to rest.

"Josh, will you be my boyfriend?"

I remember the time we told our parents about us. It was at dinner, one of the monthly dinners we had all together- with us, them, and our sibilings -they had accepted us, they didn't really care, they knew that it was going to happen eventually, and they were expecting it.

"Ty and I have something to tell you"

"Yeah, well, Josh and I-"

"We're together"

I remember the first time he held me when I was sad- no scratch that -when I was breaking down from stress and from, the at that time undiagnosed, depression. I remember feeling empty and broken, and I was probably crying too, I can't remember much from that night. I remember Josh trying to soothe me with his words.

"You'll be okay Ty. You'll be okay"

And I believed him. And in the end, he was right.

I remember the first time he told me he loved me. Sophomore year of high school, after a date that seemed straight out of a movie. I remember that the air still smelled like the popcorn we ate while watching a movie.

I cried. I cried so hard, and Josh teased me for years- he sometimes still does -about it, but I can tell that he's fond of the memory too.

"I love you too, Josh"

I remember the time he gave me a promise ring. I remember that it was- actually, is, it's still there on my ring finger -silver with his name engraved in it and his had mine.

"Josh, you aren't fucking proposing to me like this, are you?"

"No you fuckhead, it's a promise ring"

"I love you, fuckhead" I remember saying.

"I love you too"

I remember our graduation. I remember that all the boys were wearing red robes and that the girls were wearing blue ones. I remember the gym being packed with people- families and friends and whatever- I remember the rush of pride and happiness and just relief I got when my name was called. I remember Josh being in line next to me, because no one really cared about alphabetical order, and I remember the way he held my hand. It was such a simple gesture, but when our finger intertwined I felt every trace of anxiety being lifted from my shoulders.

"We made it Josh, we fucking made it!"

I remenber the time he asked me to move in with him, around seven years ago. We were both eighteen, and kinda stupid, but it all worked out in the end.

"Ty?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to ask you something very important, and, well-"

"Come on, I won't judge you!"

"Will you… will you move in with me?"

I cried again that day. But this time, he did too, and I was the one teasing him now.

"Tyler?"

A voice I know really well snaps me out of my thoughts, and I'm suddenly back at home, on our couch, with Josh cuddled up to my side under the blanket we're sharing.

He pauses the movie we're watching- I can't quite recall the name, not that it really mattered to me anyways -and looks at me, his eyes curious.

A strand of- now pink -hair falls into his face, and I brush it out his eyes, without thinking much of it, but Josh sighs, and relaxes under my touch.

"What are you thinking about? You look kinda lost"

I start to play with his hair, twisting a cotton candy colored strand around my finger before letting it go.

"I was thinking about us"

"What do you mean?" He asks, confusion clear in his features.

"I was thinking about the first time you held my hand," I take his hand into mine, and squeeze it softly. He smiles at me. "About the first time we kissed," I place a small, chaste kiss on his lips "Things like that."

He cuddles even further into my side, his head now resting onto my chest instead than on my shoulder.

"I love you"

"I know, I love you too"

I kiss the top of his head, my lips lingering on his hair for slightly longer than necessary, but he doesn't seem to mind.

I wrap my arm- the one with the hand that isn't holding Josh's -around his frame, and I smile too.

I hope future me will remember this moment the same way I remember the past.


	6. Millions ~ Frerard

Posted on: 30/06/19

Genre: very fluffy fluff. You'll probably get diabetes.

Tw: none

Song(s): millions, gerard way  
clockwork, makeout

A/n: I was planning on writing an angsty one shot but fuck it. also, sorry for the delay on vampires, i'll upload tomorrow. Anyways, what ship should the next one shot be about?

~~~

I lay wide awake, staring up at my bedroom ceiling, the warm summer breeze seeping into the room from the open window.

Everything's fuzzy and out of focus from lack of light, but I really don't care.

I look over to my right, and the digital clock on my nightstand says it's four twenty eight am. It's almost morning, and I still can't sleep.

Frank is laying next to me, but not too close to me, it's too warm to be cuddling right now, Mitch, our cat, curled up at his feet.

He's sleeping soundly, his lips slightly parted and his dark- almost black -hair scattered on his cream colored pillow.

He looks so peaceful. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, and his eyelashes flutter slightly in his sleep.

Everything is quiet, except for the muffled buzzing of the fan in the corner of the room, desperately trying to cool down the air.

I take a deep breath and I can still smell the water and the sun in the air, despite having washed off the remains of the beach hours ago.

I replay today's moments again and again, getting lost in the sandy memories.

We woke up early this morning- actually, yesterday morning -and decided to just take Frank's old car and drive the two hours to the beach for the last time this summer, because september is getting closer and summer is slowly slipping away, leaving space for colder air, shorter days and heavier clothing.

We drove the two hours like it was nothing, the windows all the way down, and the loudest, cheesiest pop punk songs we could find blasting from the speakers of the car, the wind messing up our hair.

We sang every second of those two hours, and by the end my voice was a bit scratchy and my throat felt like sandpaper but it was worth it, and I'd do it again another thousand times.

And when we got there, we instantly went to the beach, and we didn't care about the stares from stuck up mothers and their stuck up children when we held hands and acted like couples act.

We didn't care, because why should we, anyways?

And maybe we felt more alive than ever, right there and then. We felt more alive than ever while hooked in the white and green and blue of the ocean. We felt more alive than ever while we walked on the sand, leaving marks that wouldn't be there for that long after all. 

And we got lost in the waves and in the horizon and in the infinite ocean that spread all the way to the horizon and even farther but we couldn't really go that far, in the shallower waters, blocked by my inability to swim.

Sometimes I really hate that.

We splashed water at each other and when I kissed him he tasted of salt and warmth and it was so different from our usual sugary sweet kisses but it was a change I didn't mind at all.

And then the sun started to raise and it got unbearably warm, and we got tired of the water and the waves against our skin so we seeked shelter from the sun under one of the beach umbrellas there, squished together on Frank's blanket sized towel because I forgot to bring mine.

I ran my hands through his damp hair, and it felt dead from the sun and the salt but we didn't care. It was the simplest of gestures and it wasn't, because it was our gesture, our way of comforting each other.   
And he laid his head on my chest and a woman scoffed and covered her children's eyes and moved them away and we laughed at her close mindedness, because other straight looking couples were doing the same thing we were doing, but she didn't even spare them a second glance.

Sometimes it's better to laugh at these things.

We kept on doing what we were doing, relaxing under the shade for an hour or so, sharing a pair of headphones, listening to music to drown out the sound of screaming children- something neither of us really minded, but, for some reason, it annoyed us today -and just overall enjoyed the change of environment.

And then lunch came and we ate greasy fast food and we had too much fun making up weird scenarios about hypothetical people and maybe we laughed a bit too hard and we drew too much attention towards us but it was our day and we didn't care.

We threw our straw wrappers at each other when the other made an awful joke but we'd laugh anyways and my ribs hurt and my face felt numb at the end of our lunch but it was better than not laughing at all.

In the afternoon we decided to just ditch the car and the beach and walk around holding hands and just looked around town.

And maybe we were a bit too loud and maybe we acted stupidly but letting go just feels nice once in a while.

And some people stared, because why wouldn't they? Two loud, gay, punk rock looking guys in their twenties didn't really go unnoticed, especially to younger children, but again, we learned not to care.

I remember Frank's eyes lighting up when we saw a candy shop and he dragged me inside and maybe we spent way too much money for it to be considered normal and the cashier shot us a dirty look when we accidentally knocked down a display of chocolate bars wrapped in pretty pastel paper on our way out.

We apologized, but we were kicked out of the shop anyway and we laughed about it but Frank's cheeks were still tinted red from embarrassment, and I'm sure my face looked the same.

And we were walking through the almost empty city centre again, and we ate way too much artificial looking candy and sugary chocolate for it to be considered healthy by any standards and by the time we finished the whole bag we were metaphorically jumping around happily, high on sugar.

He smiled, and when he did, I swear my world stopped for a fraction of a second, and my heart skipped a beat. I still need to get used to his smile, even though it's been years since I saw it for the first time. 

We sipped on overpriced cold fruit flavored water in colorful plastic bottles and we talked. We talked about nothing and everything at the same time. We talked about everything from hypothetical apocalypses to our future. Everything from music to death and everything in between.

It was always like this between us. We could talk about anything and everything and not be ashamed or scared about its absurdity.

"I love you, you know?" He said

"I know. I love you too baby"

And the kiss we shared felt a lot more like home, the artificial cherry and mint warmth of his mouth something I was more accustomed to.

And everything felt perfect for those couple of hours, everything from Frank's laugh to the cotton candy colors- way too similar to the wrappers of the spilled chocolate bars -that seemed to be everywhere and follow us around. They were everywhere from Frank's lips to the walls of the buildings around us to the sky to the hair of a young teen passing by.

They were everywhere, especially around Frank. And really, it was a metaphor that my mind had created because there weren't that many muted colors in his punkish clothing, but I still felt like they followed him in his actions and his words, every action from the kiss he placed at the corner of my mouth to the way he wrapped his arm around my waist while we walked. They followed them in his words too, when he started talking about our future together.

And when the sun started to set around eight thirty and the pastel colors turned into hot neons that reminded me of the multicolored lollipops we bought and dark blues we decided to walk back to the car, and maybe we were a bit tired and slightly sunburnt because we forgot sunscreen but we were so free and we didn't care.

We never did.

And this time I was the one driving because Frank was barely awake when the sugar rush wore off and even though I hate driving for more than an hour straight it was probably for the best.

And I drove, pop music playing softly from the radio, the last rays of sunlight filtering through the closed windows, the crappy air conditioning turned up to the coldest setting to try to cool down the car that had been sitting for hours on end under the early september sun.

I checked on Frank's sleepy form every fifteen minutes or so and by ten thirty, when we got home, he was out like a light.

By midnight we were both in bed again, Frank's sleeping form pressed against me. We had just finished showering together to wash off the residues of sand we carried with us, and I was so happy.

I snap out of my thoughts when I feel Frank shifting next to me, searching the bed, until he finds my arm and shifts closer, cuddling into my side.

"Gee, is everything okay?" He mumbles, his voice muffled by the fabric of my old shirt, clearly sensing that something isn't right.

We don't need words anymore. I don't think we ever did.

"I can't sleep"

"Come here" he opens his arms, and I gladly accept his suggestion, slipping in between them, my head almost instantly slotting against the crook of his neck.

He starts to thread his fingers through my faded red hair, his nails lightly scratching at my scalp in a way he knows is soothing to the both of us.

It's a simple gesture, but it's our gesture.

"Is anything bugging you?" He asks, his voice reminding me too well of cotton candy colored wrappers

I shake my head "I just can't sleep"

And when his action becomes slower, and his hand grows tired he moves it from my hair to put his arm around my hips, his grip almost feather like.

He starts to rub my back soothingly, slipping his hand under my shirt, instead, his motions smooth and well practiced.

I sigh, and relax into his arms almost instantly.

"Better?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

It doesn't need to be any louder than that.

"Better" I nod, and finally close my eyes, as sunlight begins to filter through the closed blinds.

"Goodnight baby" he whispers, kissing the side of my head, his lips lingering for more than necessary.

"'Night" I whisper, inhaling his scent one last time before letting myself slip away into a peaceful sleep


	7. The end of all things ~ Ryden

Posted on: 26/07/19

Genre: very fluffy fluff

Tw: none

Song(s): the end of all things, panic! at the disco.

A/n: sorry that it's so short, but i really wanted to update this. Also, a couple of things: my mental health is currently shit so i'll be talking a small (like a week?) break from writing because i'm tired (this took me so long to write and i don't even like it) and stuff happened,, ecc. ALSO thank you for the 70 reads. Here's your unedited weird plotless piece of writing, enjoy.

~~~

My phone screen lights up from where it's placed on my bedside table, its blueish glow lighting up the dark room.

It's a text from Brendon.

I smile, and pick up the device, looking at the tiny black font over the light gray background.

I miss you so much. The text says. And maybe I stare at it for a little too long because my screen starts to lose its brightness.

I tap the screen quickly, bringing it to life again, and type out a quick response.

I miss you too

My fingers hover over the keyboard hesitantly, but I make up my mind and start typing again.

I love you

He's over at his grandparents' house for spring break, and he'll be coming back at the end of the week, just before the end of break. He's three states away, and while he's been there for a little over a week, it still feels like centuries.

I miss him so much.

I curl up farther into the hoodie that I wearing- the one that he always steals from me- and sigh quietly. I really wish he was here with me.

'He'll be back soon' I remind myself.

He'll be back soon, and I'll be able to kiss him again and hold him again and just have him close again.

I stare at my phone, watching the three bubbles that show that Brendon is typing pop up at the bottom of the screen, but they're gone in a second.

Incoming video chat from Bren💖

I reach over to the light switch, turning on the lights, then accept the call.

"I wanted to see your face" He explains, a small smile on his face.

It looks like he's sitting on a couch somewhere, and it's clear he just showered from his unruly, damp looking hair.

"I love you too. I wish I could be there to say it in person but" he gestures to the room around him vaguely, and he doesn't need to explain.

"I wish you were here too"

I look at the low quality video of him, and I notice that he's wering a very familiar lavander garment.

"Wait- is that my hoodie?"

"Honestly, I steal so much stuff from you I don't even know. Probably." he smirks, but we both know that that's mine and that he's just fucking with me.

"I've been looking for that for the past month!"

"Well it's mine now. It's soft and warm and comfortable"

"And-" he buries himself further into the fabric "it smells like you"

I roll my eyes playfully, smiling. I don't mind him keeping that, at all. In fact, he probably looks better in it than I do.

"I'll give it back eventually, don't worry"

"I'm sure you will"

"You're doubting me? Your amazing boyfriend that always keeps his promises and never lets you down?"

"Yes, I'm doubting you, dear amazing boyfriend that always keeps his promises and never lets me down" I reply confidently to his teasing.

He tries to keep a straight face for a coupme of seconds, and then he bursts out in a fit of giggles, and soon enough I'm following him.

"Anyway, i wanted to ask you, when are you coming back?"

"My flight's on saturday, but I don't think i'll be able to see you 'till monday. You know, with my parents and all. They said they want me home because they haven't seen me in so long" he says, the last bit obviously sarcastic.

Today is tuesday. Well, almost, since it's eleven twenty seven on a monday night, but I already consider it the day after.

"Oh" I frown.

"I'm sorry"

"It's okay, not your fault"

"We'll still see each other soon. And when I'm back I'll bring you on a date, and we'll even go to the arcade like you wanted to a while ago, how does that sound?"

I smile at that, I've been wanting to go to one for ages, but a lot of things always got in the way- one time Brendon or any of our other friends weren't available, another day I was busy, another I didn't have enough money, and so on.

"I really can't wait"

He smiles a bit wider, and just now I notice how tired he looks. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks moments away to falling asleep.

"You look tired. Do you want to talk tomorrow so you can get some sleep?"

"No, I'm fine, really"

I can tell he's lying from a mile away. Everything from the heavy eyelids, to the way he seems cold- he's wrapped himself in the slightly too big hoodie in the tightest way he can -to the lack of his usual cheery and happy nature in some of his words.

"Are you sure?"

"No"

"Babe, go to bed then. We can talk tomorrow when you don't look moments away from dying on me"

"Oh wow, thanks for the compliment" he teases

"You know what I mean"

"Yeah, I know, I was just fucking with you"

He gets up from his seat, and flops down on what I think is a bed, but I can't quite tell by the frantic movement of the camera.

The camera gets still again, and I can see that he's laying on a bed with a light colored blanket on it, his dark hair contrasting strongly with it.

"Will you stay in the call with me until I fall asleep?" He pauses for a moment, adjusting his head on one of the pillows of the bed "please?"

It's not an unusual request coming from him, and I nod.

He usually asks for things like this when he had a bad day, but I can tell he's really tired and not really awake enough to talk anymore.

He fumbles for a moment with the phone for a moment, putting it on the nighstand, propped up against something so I can still see him.

He switches off the lights, and the image on my screen becomes fuzzy and unclear, but I can still see him.

He gets under the blankets, and hugs a pillow to his chest, like he always does when he sleeps.

"I wish I was there to hold you" I whisper, but I know he heard me.

I miss his warmth and I miss laying my head on his chest and I miss his cuddles, the way he makes me feel safe no matter what.

"I wish you were here too"

"Come on, now sleep. We'll talk tomorrow"

"Ry?" he calls out, squeezing the pillow tighter to his chest.

He looks adorable in my opinion, but I don't voice my thoughts not to interrupt him.

"Yeah?"

"I love you"

"I love you too"

And I really mean it. I love him with everything I have, and I'll probably love him for a long time.

His eyes close, and his body goes limp, his breathing slowing down gradually.

He looks so peaceful.

"Goodnight baby" I whisper fondly, and close the call.

I stretch a little, and look at the time at the top of my screen. It's midnight. I decide that it's late enough for me, and switch off the lights in my room again.

I get under my thin blanket, still wearing the hoodie, but I decide to take off my sweatpants.

As my head hits the pillow I realize how tired I actually am.

My eyes slip shut, and I feel myself drifting off to sleep. The image of a sleeping Brendon still in my mind.

I miss him.

~~~

The rest of the week goes by in a blur, and all of a sudden it's monday.

I straighten the tie of the uniform we have to wear to school, while I walk to the spot behind the school where Brendon and I usually hang out before the beginning of class.

He's already there- odd, since he's always late, but whatever- leaning against the wall, my lavander hoodie folded neatly on his arm.

I shake my head fondly at that. He kept his promise.

His uniform looks cleaner that it's been in a long time, and he's actually wearing his tie- probably his mother's fault since he hates that thing and can't even put it on and off on his own.

He's looking at his phone, but once I'm close enough to be seen by him his head snaps up.

"Ryan!"

He throws himself into my arms, and I squeeze him tighly, my fingers curling up in his shirt, probably wrinkling it and ruining his perfect, crisp appearance, but I don't care right now.

And neither does he, it seems, by the way he's squeezing me.

We stay there, just holding each other for what feels like ages, his face buried in my neck.

"I missed you" I mumble into his shoulder, my voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"I missed you too"

I pull the hug apart slightly, so I can look at him properly.

He looks tired, the slightly darker than usual circles around his eyes prove that, but he's smiling. It's that special smile that he reserves just for me.

His eyes look way better in person than through a screen, that's for sure.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, and I nod in response, leaning in towards him.

The kiss is firm and slick, his slightly parted lips warm and way too soft for my own good.

My hands slip down to his waist, and his arms wrap around my neck, and if a teacher were to accidentally see us right now we'd probably be in trouble, but a day of detention would be worth it.

The ringing of the first bell brings us back to reality harshly, and he pulls away from me quickly.

"I forgot we were in school" he says

I laugh, and take his hand, squeezing it softly.

"Come on, let's go"

"I love you, by the way. I know I've been saying it a lot lately but I really mean it. And saying it in person is different than through a screen, too" He says

"I don't know what to say. I love you too, Brendon"

"Oh and by the way, you've seen it by now, but here's your hoodie."


	8. Desert song ~ Ryden

Posted on: 05/07/19

Genre: Angst

Tw: depression, suicidal thoughts (i know, it's getting boring)

Song(s): desert song, my chemical romance  
Goner, twenty one pilots   
Stay away from my friends, pierce the veil.

A/n: this used to be the joshler one shot i never published (aka goner. I didn't publish it because it was too personal but then i decided fuck it) but you wanted ryden, so here it is. enjoy. (Unedited)

~~~

I stare up at my ceiling blankly, waiting for my alarm to go off, signaling that it's time for me to wake up.

I feel trapped. Everything in this room is suffocating, from the white celing to the yellow walls. Even the bed feels suffocating, and yet, I can't seem to tear myself out of it.

I wipe my tear stained cheeks with the back of my hand, even though I don't really have tears to wipe anymore, since the last time I cried was hours ago and they already dried out. It's more an habit, really.

It's getting bad again. Countless sleepless nights, school days wasted away lost in my own thoughts, fighting back tears at every second. Afternoons spent sleeping away the pain. Skipping meals, and sometimes the thought of dying crosses my mind once or twice or maybe ten times a day.

I'm fine.

My alarm goes off, and I turn it off quickly, the piercing noise way too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Six am.

I roll out of bed, and stand on my shaking legs, my knees threatening to give up underneath my weight at any moment now.

I'm fine.

I stumble into the bathroom, the house eerily quiet. I'm alone, my parents are already at work.

I look at myself in the mirror. My reflection is way too familiar. Bloodshot eyes, the brown contrasting strongly with my grey tinted skin. My hair is greasy, matted with sweat and it hangs limply on my head, its once wavy texture lost to lack of proper care.

Ugly is the only word on my mind.

Ugly.

I wash my hands, and go into the kitchen.

I pour myself a bowl of cereal, and I down it quickly, even though i'm not hungry and the soggy food tastes like cardboard and the milk is way too cold.

I once loved breakfast. I loved chatting with my mother while she made breakfast for me- well, a way younger version of me -and herself and we'd watch morning cartoons for ten minutes before getting ready for the day.

Now I eat alone in a dimly lit kitchen.

She doesn't care anymore. They stopped caring as I started growing up and they realized I'm not the perfect son they want.

I'm fine.

Six fifteen.

I go into my room, and I get dressed. Black skinny jeans, black shirt, black, oversized hoodie. Like every single day of the past months. I put on my heavy boots- they're not warm enough for the cold weather and the snow outside but I don't care -and tug on some bracelets to cover up my wrists.

I feel dizzy and nauseous just from thinking about myself.

I can't take this anymore.

I'm tired.

I'm fine.

Six twenty five.

I go into the bathroom again, and finish getting ready. Every action feels like a chore. My movements slow and mechanical. I've done enough times that I don't need to think anymore.

I stare at my reflection again. The person staring back at me doesn't feel like a person anymore. His eyes are glassy and his chewed, bloody lips stand out against his skin like a drop of crimson blood against untouched snow.

Nothing about him looks like me. Or what I'm supposed to be. He doesn't look like a thin, beautiful, straight, straight A student with a beautiful girlfriend.

He looks like everything I learnt to despise. Everything from my clothes to my face to the chipped black nail polish on my fingers to the shadow of day old eyeliner smeared under my eyes.

Six thirty five.

I'm fine.

I tug on a jacket, and grab my backpack, and whatever I need for the day.

I blink once, maybe twice, I lost sense of time long ago, and suddenly I'm walking towards my bus stop, headphones in my ears, the volume loud, my gaze fixed on the dirty asphalt of the sidewalk.

Six forty.

I'm fine.

I walk, and I walk, and my legs ache with that kind of pain I know way too well and the backpack on my back is dragging me down. My head feels heavy.

I look down at my feet again, the only footprints in the snow are mine. It's still dark, and no one is out walking this early.

Everything is silent, except for the sound of my footsteps and all I can see is the cloud of smoke like vapor coming out of my mouth.

I turn up the volume of my music.

I'm fine.

I get to the bus stop, and my hands are numb from the cold. I wait, and wait, and what is supposed to be five minutes feels like centuries.

Seven.

I get on the bus, and sit down in one of the cheap plastic seats, in the front, right behind the driver, just like I always do.

There's a couple sitting to my left. A brunette girl on the chubbier side and a short, blonde guy with curly hair. He has his arm around her. They look in love. They're quietly talking to themselves, they're probably talking about me- and I know that that thought is irrational but I can't seem to shake it out of my head. It clings to my insecurities and stays there, at the back of my mind, almost taunting me.

I miss Brendon.

I'll see him in less than half an hour, though, so relax into my seat, music still blaring loudly in my ears and the old lady behind me can hear it, I'm sure, and she's staring at me.

I start to chew at my bottom lip, sinking my teeth in with force until the skin on the surface splits and bleeds, and a drop of the crimson liquid rolls down my chin and drips onto my hoodie, disappearing into the black fabric.

I turn the music down.

I wipe my mouth with my sleeve, like I've done hundreds of times before.

I'm fine.

The bus stops, and I get off quickly, pushing through the people that are standing up, in a move I mastered long ago.

I get to school, and I plaster a neutral, generic tired expression on my face, trying to mask my emotions as best as I can.

Seven twenty.

A familiar head of dark brown hair catches my attention, but I'm not sure I'm able to run without slipping and falling on the ground from the ice, so I make my way to him slowly.

He notices me, and instantly smiles.

God, I love his smile.

"Hey Bren" I say, and I almost flinch at how much my voice sounds strained.

His smile falls a bit, worry flickering in his eyes in a way I know way too well.

"Hey"

He takes one of my hands, mindlessly tracing patterns on the back of it with his thumb, while we start to walk towards the school.

"Are you okay baby? You seem a bit off today"

I shake my head quickly, and I can tell he understood. It's not rare for me to have days like these.

"Is there anything I can do?"

I shake my head again, but squeeze his hand tighter. He understands what I'm asking for, and wraps one of his arms around my middle instead, pulling us closer.

I'm fine.

Seven fifty five.

The bell rings, and I have to separate myself from Brendon.

I frown slightly, and this doesn't go unnoticed by him. He pulls me closer, and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth gently, almost as if he's scared of breaking me.

I don't feel anything.

I don't say anything, though.

"I love you"

"I love you too" I say back, the answer coming to me automatically.

I mean it. I really do.

The day goes by in a blur.

It's the same routine.

Sit in the back, pretend that you're paying attention, change classes, repeat. At lunch, I sit with a couple of friends- well, acquaintances, actually because Brendon has a different lunch period -and they don't care. They never did, and they never will.

I didn't eat. I didn't want to, I wasn't hungry, the thought of eating something making me feel sick.

It's for the best anyways. I need to lose weight. No one likes fat guys.

I'm fine.

Two fifty five.

"Do you want me to come over and stay with you?"

"Only if you really want to. I'm not at my best and I don't want to force you into being around me when I'm like this"

Tears pool into my eyes for what has to be the hundredth time today, and I fight them back easily, trying not to break the cheap, plastic feeling mask covering up my emotions.

Brendon, notices. He always does, but doesn't say anything about it.

He doesn't have to.

I feel disgusting.

"I'll come over then."

He squeezes my hand tighter.

I love him.

I'm fine.

We get to my house, and he still hasn't let go of my hand, he held it even through the bus ride, without signaling any discomfort in that.

I take off my shoes and hoodie, and flop down on my bed, him doing the same.

"Now-" he starts, but I interrupt him, by cuddling up to his side. He puts his arm around me without hesitating, before continuing "Do you want to talk about what's happening or do you want me to distract you?"

I shrug slightly.

I don't know.

I'm fine.

"It's just one of those days, you know. I feel empty. Nothing gives me happiness anymore and I'm just starting to have bad thoughts again" I fidget with my one of my bracelets.

"How bad?" He asks, worry clear in his voice.

"I-" I cut myself off, and take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down "I don't know if I want to say it"

I don't want to bother him with my whining. I've done it enough times in my life, I'm sure it became annoying months ago.

I don't want him to know that I don't want to be alive anymore.

Tears well up in my eyes again, but this time I let them fall freely.

I hide my face into his shoulder, I don't want him to see me cry. I shouldn't be crying.

I don't feel anything.

I'm fine.

"Let it all out, you'll feel better"

He lets me cry on his shoulder, and he doesn't say anything.

When I'm done, he hugs me close to his chest, and presses a kiss on the top of my head.

I curl up in his arms, and I'm still hurting and numb but the feeling is slowly fading around the edges, leaving space for other feelings.

I'm not fine, but I'm going to be.


	9. Always ~ Bryllon

Posted on: 11/07/19

Genre: Angst

Tw: Death, funerals

Song(s): Always, panic! at the disco

A/n: i actually wanted to write a fluffy one shot but i'm stuck so i decided to write angst instead. The fluffy one is coming out sometime next week. This is definitely not my best work but I actually like it. I'm sorry for ripping your heart out, btw. It's unedited, so sorry for any mistakes.

~~~

I'm laying in bed, even though it's too early for me to fall asleep.

The room is dark, and despite being under two blankets, I'm still cold.

I can't remember the last time I slept well. It's been less then a week, five days at most, but it feels like years.

The bed feels empty without a third body in it.

I miss him so fucking much.

Tomorrow is the day of the funeral.

I feel a pair of strong arms wrap around me from behind. It's Dallon. He pulls me against his chest gently, like he always does.

"Bren, baby, are you okay?" He asks, but it's an empty question. We both aren't okay, and he knows it.

"No"

I slip out of his arms for a moment, and lay on my other side, so I can face him.

"No" I repeat.

I don't have to explain, he knows what I mean.

"I miss him" I say, but it's not even nearly enough. Those three words are not enough to describe how much I'm- We're, actually -hurting.

"I miss him too"

His voice sounds tired, strained, so different from his normal cheery tone.

He's hurting too.

He's hurting too, I can see it clearly, in everything he does. In the way his eyes don't shine anymore, drained of all the light they once had behind them.

It feels like fire, burning me inside, trapping me in a cloud of smoke and drowning me, dragging me down at the bottom of the ocean, and maybe I can swim but I'm getting tired, and I don't know if I can swim any longer, and my own thoughts aren't making sense anymore, and I feel myself spiraling out of control.

My thoughts get interrupted by Dallon. He places a small kiss on my forehead, and then he curls up against me, almost to make himself smaller.

"I miss him so fucking much"

He starts to cry silently, his face hidden in my shoulder. He's shaking, too. I try to soothe him the best I can, but he doesn't stop crying.

I hold him impossibly closer, and our chests are pressed together tightly, I can feel his sobs shaking through my own body, and he clings onto me as hard as he can.

He doesn't cry. He almost never does. But since Ryan died, he's always crying.

I haven't cried yet. I don't know why. It makes me feel almost guilty, because I feel like I should be.

We lay there, in a bed that feels way too empty, holding each other tightly, our hearts half empty and our faces tear stained, falling apart over and over again, only to glue ourselves back together.

And we have to, because there's no one else that will, and my head is spinning, going hundreds of miles an hour, and I'm not sure what I'm feeling anymore.

Dallon stops shaking, and I can feel him drift off to sleep. It's a good thing since he hasn't slept in so long, so I let him.

Soon enough, my eyes close too, and I slip in a restless, dreamless sleep too.

~~~

I open my eyes, and I realize that Dallon isn't in my arms anymore, but I'm not alarmed, he always gets up before me.

I roll over on the other side of the bed, looking for Ryan, like I always do, but his side of the bed is cold, and he's not there.

Then, it all settles in again, and I suddenly feel alone.

I usually would have laid in bed with him for a couple of minutes, waking him up slowly, since he hates- hated -being woken up by an alarm.

I would hold him, and run my fingers through his hair, whispering about how much I love him in his ear until he woke up.

And when he finally woke up he usually smiled, and kissed me.

I shake off the awful feeling, and get out of bed, dragging the fluffiest of the two blankets on the bed with me, and careful not to drag it on the ground.

I go into the hallway to go to the kitchen, and by doing so I walk past the door of the music room.

The place where he was alive the most.

He was alive the most when he was behind his guitar, or when he was behind a notebook, one of his fancy, heavy pens in his hand.

I'm tempted to unlock the door and look inside, but I decide not to. I don't know if I'm strong enough to handle that yet, because I know that that room is full of his things.

It was his favorite place in all the house.

I wrap myself further into the fluffy blue blanket, and continue walking down the hallway.

Dallon's in the kitchen, making himself coffee, amd I assume that he didn't hear me, because he doesn't look at me when I enter the room.

"Good morning" I say, wrapping my arms around his middle and putting my head on his shoulder.

"Morning" he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

Then, silence falls between us again, and it's almost deafening, but I don't say anything, and neither does he.

"Today's the day." He states, almost bitterly, his voice still at a low volume. He sounds almost angry at the idea of it.

I nod, as he hands me one of the two cups of coffee he poured, as I untangle myself from him.

There's still enough for a third one.

"Today's the day." I repeat. I tend to repeat things a lot these days, I'm constantly at a loss for words.

Not that I have much to say, anyway.

We drag ourselves to the living room, and sit on the couch, like we do everyday.

Dallon grabs one of the corners of the blanket, and slips under it with me, careful not to spill his drink, just like he's done dozens of times in the past.

We don't say anything.

Ryan's seat stays empty.

~~~

I help Dallon straighten his tie one last time, before getting out of our car.

I place a kiss at the corner of his mouth, and he sighs slightly.

The fall weather is harsh against my skin, but I don't complain, despite being cold. I'm cold a lot these days.

"Ready?" I ask, and he nods, taking my hand.

Everything is fuzzy around the edges for me, and I can't seem to focus on what's going on at all.

I get greeted by Ryan's and Dallon's parents, and then by my own, and someone's crying, I think. 

The faces of sibilings, cousins, aunts and uncles, old friends, mix together in one big blur, and I tune out for most of the ceremony, the only thing keeping me grounded is Dallon's hand, he's currently tracing small patterns on the back of my hand.

I get shaken slightly, and I snap out of my thoughts.

"Are you okay?" Dallon whispers in my ear, and I nod.

"Do you want to go up there-" he points to the small podium where Ryan's mother is now talking "and say something? I don't want to"

I shake my head "No" and he leaves it at that, and I give his hand a small squeeze, as if to say thank you.

We all stand up, one by one, to look at him one last time.

When it's Dallon and I's turn, I almost break right then and there. I can't stand the sight. I squeeze Dallon's hand way too tightly, and once he drags me away, I snap.

Tears start to roll down my face, and I start shaking with silent sobs, for the first time since he died. I hide my face in Dallon's shoulder, but I still feel the sympathetic looks of other people on my back.

I have to be dragged away from the main room by Dallon, for a couple of minutes, because I can't stop crying, and the room full of people isn't really helping me.

He hugs me close, and whispers reassuring things in my ear just like I did last night.

It takes me a lot to stop crying, and when I finally do, Dallon presses a kiss to the top of my head sweetly.

"Can we go back?" He asks, and I nod, straightening out his now tear stained jacket.

He smiles at the action, and even though it's not really the biggest smile, I can see that it's genuine.

"Yeah, I'm-" I breathe "I'm okay, mostly"

That's a lie, and we both know that, but lying is better than acknowledging the fact that I'm not okay. For now, at least.

Two hours later Dallon and I are the last ones standing at his grave.

Flowers of all kinds and colors are placed on the newly sealed ground. Two flowers in particular stand out to my eyes, though, the ones Dallon and I placed.

Two red roses in the sea of yellow, white, and blue of the other flowers.

"You know-" I start, and Dallon looks at me "I love you, Ry. I always did. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything during the ceremony, and I'm sorry for breaking down like that. I just couldn't handle seeing you like that. I'm sorry"

"I'm sorry, too." Dallon starts "I'm sorry because I didn't tell you to be careful that day, and because I didn't tell you that I love you enough, I didn't kiss you enough, and I didn't hold you tighter. If I could go back in time I'd do that and more"

A drop of water, then two, then more start to wet my face. It's starting to rain.

He used to love rain. Whenever it rained he used to sit on the couch by the window in the music room, and write away in his notebook, or play guitar.

"We should go." I say, looking up at the sky.

Dark, thick clouds are starting to form.

"We should."

He sounds like he's fighting back tears.

"I love you" I say, touching the gravestone one last time, Dallon doing the same soon enough.

I turn my back to the grave, and sigh.

I take Dallon's hand again, and we start to walk away, our steps silent against the water soaked ground.


	10. All my heart ~ Bryllon

Posted on: 21/07/19

Genre: Fluff.

Tw: None

Song(s): All my heart, sleeping with sirens

A/n: oh boy, this took me so long to write and I struggled so much, sorry that it's a bit short. And sorry for the slight delay, I wanted to upload yesterday, but I was busy. Anyway, here's a prequel to last week's one shot, enjoy!   
~~~

I feel someone shifting in bed, and I wake up, but I don't open my eyes yet, since it's probably Dallon waking up.

I open my eyes slightly, only to close them again. It's early in the morning- or morning, at least, I can't quite tell what time it is.

It's raining heavily outside, and there's nothing better to wake up to, for my standards.

I bury myself farther into the blanket draped over me, and I feel someone pulling me into their arms gently.

It's Brendon, I'm sure. He does this every morning.

I'll never get tired of this.

"Hey, baby, are you awake?" He whispers softly in my ear, his voice rough and thick with sleep.

He starts to thread his fingers through my hair, combing out the knots that formed while I was asleep, his touch feather like.

I make a noise of acknowledgment, and place my head on his chest gently, feeling his heartbeat from under his shirt- a shirt that I'm pretty sure was Dallon's at some point, but we've all worn a lot so it doesn't really matter.

"Your hair is so soft"

"Mhm"

A comfortable silence falls between us, and he keeps playing with my hair, waking me up slowly.

"I love you, you know?" He whispers again, and I smile. It's the same question every morning.

"I love you too" I say, and place a light kiss on his chest, where his heart should be.

I look up at him, and I scan over his face.

I've seen him thousands of times, I know his face like the back of my hand. I know every mark and every curve, and yet, I still find him beautiful.

He looks down at me, and pecks me on the lips.

"Are you ready to get up? Dallon's already in the kitchen"

"Yeah"

We roll out of bed, and I notice that he grabbed the fluffy blanket we keep folded at the foot of the bed with him, wearing it like a sort of cape.

I smile at the small gesture,

We get into the kitchen, and Dallon's already making coffee.

I go up to him, and wrap my arms around his waist from behind, and bury my face in the back of his neck, leaving a small kiss there.

I can't really see it, but I know that he's smiling- and really, it's a shame that I can't see it.

"Good morning"

"Morning, Ry" He says happily, his voice light and cheerful, almost a bit too sweet in comparison to his normal voice.

He hands me a cup of coffee- with milk, and sugar, just the way I like it -and he does the same to Brendon, emptying the coffee machine.

We stumble into the living room, and squish together on the couch, limbs tangled together, careful not to spill our drinks.

We stay there, curled up on the couch together, under our fluffy blanket, our legs tangled together, even long after we finished our coffees, enjoying the peace that comes with mornings.

I lean into Dallon's side, as he says something I can't quite catch to Brendon. One of Dallon's arms wraps around my shoulder in a smooth, well practiced move, and he averts his attention from Brendon to place a kiss on the top of my head.

I'm in love.

The day draws by lazily, we don't really want to go out, and it's raining anyway.

We all end up in the music room, sometime in the afternoon, I'm not sure when, I didn't look at clocks- or my phone -that much, or at all today. 

Brendon is playing the piano, and Dallon is sitting next to him, half humming and half singing a song I'm sure I heard before but don't know the name of.

I'm sitting by the window, as always, a notebook placed in my lap, a pen in my hand. I look as the water drops splash on the clear glass, create indistinct patterns and shapes.

The sky is grey, the dark clouds littering it almost threatening. It starts to get darker and darker, as the rain grows heavier quickly, draining the outside world of its colors.

I get startled by a particulatly loud roar of thunder, and I see the wind start to pick up- I can see it on the way tree branches start to bend and the water on the glass of the window starts to drip faster, and yet, it's oddly quiet.

I mindlessly start to doodle in my notebook. A stick figure Brendon plays the piano while a stick figure Dallon sings, while a tiny stick figure Ryan stays to the side, watching, a notebook in his hand.

It's sort of a reminder for future me, a reminder of what we did today, since lazy days tend to slip from my memory a lot.

I wish they didn't. I wish they didn't, since days like these, where we can just stay inside and not do much are rare for us.

I wish I could remember every detail of today, and of the few other lazy days we had.

I wish I could remember every single word Dallon sang, or every shift of Brendon's hands. I wish I could remember the exact pattern of the water droplets on the window, or the exact sound that the water makes outside.

I wish I could remember all of this.

Dallon stops singing, and I get snapped out of my thoughts almost violently

"Are you okay?" Dallon asks me, and I nod slightly. 

"I just spaced out. I'm fine"

He nods, and I look down at my hands, looking at him suddenly too much, for a reason to me unknown.

My fingertips and parts of the palms of my hands are stained with dark ink, and I noticed that I accidentally dragged it on the page of my notebook smudging my not so artistic drawings.

I can hear a brief, hushed conversation between Dallon and Brendon, bu tbefore I can ask what they're talking about, Brendin starts to play, and Dallon starts to sing again.

My lips curl into a smile, as I realized that it's one of the songs we wrote together.

I start singing along after a while, and soon enough Brendon does too, and we all smile, even though this happens often.

I'm in love.

The night starts to fall, and we go into the kitchen again to make dinner, but we just decide to order some takeout instead.

I watch Dallon and Brendon argue about what to order, just like they always do, and eventually they'll turn to me, and I'll shrug, and say to just order a pizza.

We curl up in the living room again, and Dallon and I are laid out on the couch, my head on his chest amd shoulder, our faces close and our legs entwined and Brendon is sprawled out on the big armchair next to couch, a movie playing at a low volume.

Dallon's hand is running up and down my side, from under my shirt, his hands warm and soft, his nails lightly scratching my skin, comforting the slight uneasiness that seems to cling to me a lot these days.

His other hand is on my chest, and I'm mindlessly playing with it, carefully bending each joint, playing with one of the two rings on his ring finger- two promise rings, one from me and one from Brendon -or tracing patterns on the back of his hand, as the bright images of the animated movie we're watching flash before my eyes.

I feel my eyes start to get heavier, and I let them close on their own, hiding my face against Dallon's neck, and place a couple of sleepy, lazy kisses against his throat.

He makes a noise of appreciation, and I smirk slightly, knowing well that's a weak spot for him.

Brendon looks over at us for a moment, a slight look if confusion on his face, but then he decides to go back to watching the movie.

"Do you want to go to bed?" He asks, and I shake my head, not wanting to get up from the comfortable position- and the movie isn't over yet.

"No, I don't want to get up" I whisper lightly against his skin.

I'm in love.

By the time the late night starts to drag by, and the sky gets darker and the rain starts to grow heavier and heavier, we're all curled up in bed again, ready to sleep.

I'm laying down, my head on Dallon's chest, just like before, and Brendon is laying beside me, face down, his arm draped over my middle lazily- and I don't mind it at all.

I wish I could stay like this forever. In the arms of the two people I love the most in this world.

"I love you" I say outloud, for the first time today.

"I love you too"

"I love you both too"

Little did I know that would be the last time I'd hear those words coming from them.

I'm in love.


End file.
